


Monsters Deserve No Comfort

by wordsaplenty



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Enjolras, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pining Enjolras, now there's comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsaplenty/pseuds/wordsaplenty
Summary: Enjolras got into arguments, a lot.  That wasn’t news, everyone was very well aware of his short temper.  He was passionate about so many things and sadly that passion could lead to clashes in opinions with others, including his friends.  Because of this he was scolded regularly for his inability to manage his temper and his words better. And though their reprimands were justified, they still hurt.  It was hard to listen to their words of reproach when he was already beating himself up over what he had said and done.Enjolras' words get away from him, once again targeting Grantaire.  But enough's enough and l'ABC will not stand for this any longer.  If only they would support Enjolras the way they supported Grantaire.Update: I thought I could but I just couldn't leave this without any comfort happening.  So I'm adding Grantaire's view and will eventually add a chapter with some actual comfort happening.





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras got into arguments, a lot. That wasn’t news, everyone was very well aware of his short temper. He was passionate about so many things and sadly that passion could lead to clashes in opinions with others, including his friends. Because of this he was scolded regularly for his inability to manage his temper and his words better. 

And though their reprimands were justified, they still hurt. It was hard to listen to their words of reproach when he was already beating himself up over what he had said and done. He hid his anxiety from his friends, but when he entered his flat at night he replayed every conversation he had had where he felt he was lacking. Thinking over every word that came out wrong, reviewing the many mistakes he had made, and thinking of all the things he should have done instead of what had actually happened. His mind bombarded him with visions of his friends, discussing his shortcomings behind his back, looks of disgust across all their faces.

And yet, the mixture of his anxiety and the reprimands of his friends were not enough to tamp down his temper. And once again words were flying out of his mouth before he had truly considered them. As usual, they were directed toward Grantaire.

“You have no right to sit there and throw disparaging remarks at everything I... everything we have worked for. You know nothing Grantaire, nothing save the bottom of your glass. You are a drunkard and nothing more. You bring nothing to this meeting, nothing to this cause, we’d be better off if you left and never returned.”

The silence of the café was deafening. Glares were being thrown his way. As Enjolras looked around he saw nothing but angry and disappointed faces turned his way, and concerned and worried faces turned toward Grantaire. Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked like they were trying to decide whether to throttle Enjolras or comfort Grantaire. Grantaire was stone faced, his body frozen with his near empty glass inches from his lips.

Grantaire was the one to break the silence. He threw back the rest of the wine then slammed the glass on the table beside him. Standing he took long strides till he was inches from Enjolras. No one moved to stop him.

His voice was steady as he spat out angry words. “You think yourself above me. You think yourself a leader, a freedom fighter, a champion of the people? You are the one who knows nothing. You are naïve. You are pathetic and weak. You stand up here and wax poetic about how the people can change their lot in life. Meanwhile you accomplish nothing, you are nothing. Think on that before putting those around you down, you sad excuse of a man.”

With that Grantaire stormed out of the café, Eponine and Bossuet following close behind, both glaring hatred at Enjolras. 

As soon as the door closed behind them noise exploded from the remaining members of l’ABC. Everyone spoke over everyone else, leading to a barrage of rebukes that stabbed at Enjolras like daggers.

“How could you?”

“What were you thinking?”

“You can’t speak to people like that!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you monster?”

“You better apologize and hope that Grantaire forgives you, which is more than you deserve.”

The barrage continued to wash over Enjolras, each word stabbing deeper and deeper. Because they were true. They were all true. He was a monster. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. He was a terrible human being who had no right to call himself the spokesperson of l’ABC. But it was Grantaire’s words that hit him the hardest. It was always his words that hit the hardest. It was always his words, their conversations that Enjolras replayed over and over again, tormenting his mind to insomnia with all the ways he failed this smart, amazing, and brilliant soul. This man that he tore down, time and time again, because he couldn’t control his mouth. This man who tore him down, time and time again, because he deserved to be.

Combeferre was the only one who approached him. Enjolras did not deserve any words of comfort. Which was all well and good because he received none.

“This ends now Enjolras. l’ABC can’t continue on like this. No more warnings. No more lectures. You need to get down on your knees and beg Grantaire for forgiveness. And pray he does. If you can’t keep your temper in check then we’re done. l’ABC is done.”

Enjolras couldn’t look anyone in the eyes. Staring at Combeferre’s dark shoes he simply nodded his head and walked out the door.

It was a ten minute walk to his flat. Those ten minutes were spent replaying the entire conversation from beginning to end. A small voice inside told him that Grantaire had started it. That he had only been responding to the harsh words Grantaire had thrown his way. “You’re a fool. This will never work. This is all pointless. We should be spending our time enjoying life instead of being the servants of Lord Enjolras and his whims and fancies.” No one had reprimanded Grantaire for his harsh words against their cause. 

Which is why this little voice in his mind that told him he was reacting and not fully at fault, was replaced by the booming voice that told him that no one supported him or stood by him because they all agreed with Grantaire. Grantaire was right and he was wrong. He deserved harsh words and reprimands, Grantaire did not. Grantaire was the sun the group revolved around, not him. The group would be better off without him.

The group would be better off without him…

This thought in mind Enjolras changed directions and began winding down the streets towards another flat. This walk was considerably longer but his mind was set. For once he knew what he wanted to say, there was no second guessing the words he would use. Enough was enough, he knew what he had to do, what everyone wanted him to do.

Grantaire opened the door, eventually. Enjolras stood awkwardly in the hallway, knocking on the door intermittently, beginning to think he should give up, when Grantaire pulled the door open slowly. Grantaire stood there looking tired, exhausted. 

Grantaire ran a hand down his face, pushing the palms of his hands deep into his eyes before staring directly at Enjolras. Enjolras couldn’t read the expression on his face, that had never been his forte, and in fact lacking this simple skill was part of his problem.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire grit out eventually.

Enjolras took in a deep breath and then said what he meant to say, exactly how he’d practiced.

“You’re right.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened visibly.

“Come again?”

“I’m sorry for all I said. I was out of line and should never have taken my anger and anxiety out on you. You’re right about everything. I have no right to be a part of l’ABC. I am the reason we are unable to accomplish our goals. You’re friends have made it very clear they agree with you.” Enjolras’ voice broke a little at the words ‘your friends’ but it was obvious to him now how true that statement was.

“What are you talking about? Look, Enjolras I was drunk and spouting my usual nonsense you can’t…”

Enjolras interrupted him, “It wasn’t nonsense. Everyone agrees.” Now to say what he had come here to say. “I’m stepping down from l’ABC. You will all be better off with a leader who considers their words. Who doesn’t let anger take over at the drop of a hat. You deserve to be surrounded by people who are supportive, not people who strike you down because they can’t keep their emotions in check. I know you don’t agree with my ideals, and I have no right to ask this of you, but please continue to help and support l’ABC in my absence. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness so I won’t ask for it. Goodbye Grantaire.” 

Enjolras turned and began to walk down the stairs.

He made it to the sidewalk below and began the long walk back to his flat. Ignoring the tears that had begun to gather in his eyes. Ignoring the tears that fell when he realized Grantaire wasn’t coming after him. Ignoring the tears that poured down his cheeks when he realized he wanted, no, needed Grantaire to come after him, to comfort him. But no, monsters didn’t deserve comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now let's see what was going on with Grantaire that fateful day.

Grantaire was having a rough day. Most days were rough days, a point which everyone was very well aware of. Everyone that is, save Enjolras. No matter how shitty of a day he was having Enjolras was the only one who consistently treated him the same as he’d always treated him. Giving as good as he got in their arguments regardless of their friends cringing and whispered pleas to back off just this once. 

It was a delicate dance the two of them had. Deep down they both knew one day they’d go too far, Grantaire’s money was on himself being the one to do it.

This particular rough day began with him losing his job at the restaurant. He’d been working there a few months now and was finally starting to feel comfortable in his role as a waiter. Then his boss had found his flask. That’s not exactly the full story. Then his boss had found him standing with a bottle of vodka from the bar, pouring the contents into his flask, at 10 o’clock in the morning. 

He’d gone straight to Eponine’s flat where he cried out angrily at his own stupidity.

“You made a mistake R, it happens. Your boss is a dick. You totally deserved a second chance instead of being thrown out on your ass like that,” Eponine said, carding her fingers through Grantaire’s curls, his head resting on her lap. 

His friends always tried to be optimistic for him. Tried to swing things so that he wouldn’t blame himself so harshly, knowing that he took words to heart, even when he shouldn’t. He let her reassurances wash over him and soon enough he was more outraged by the treatment of his former boss and less outraged at his own stupidity. 

Eponine was kind enough to take on the task of informing the rest of their friends about what had happened, leaving out the reason of his firing at his request. They already saw him as a drunk and depressed soul, they didn’t need to add thief to their vocabulary when speaking of him.

Therefore when he arrived at the café for the meeting of l’ABC, everyone was quick to support his alcoholic tendencies and shout profanities directed toward his former boss. Everyone but Enjolras. 

From the moment he had entered the café it seemed as if Enjolras’ eyes were glued to him. Unlike the rest of their friends who were putting on falsely cheerful faces, or genuinely angry ones at the misfortune that is Grantaire, Enjolras simply looked toward him as he always did. A mix of exasperation and frustration possibly with a side of curiosity. Enjolras didn’t join in with the disparaging remarks thrown toward his former employer, nor did he participate in the plot to get R completely plastered. Instead he stood at the front of the room, reviewing his notes as he always did prior to a meeting. It hurt that Apollo didn’t deem it important to spare a single word of sympathy toward Grantaire’s plight.

This hurt festered as he nursed his wine, listening to Enjolras spout his nonsense of how they could change the world for the better. How they could make a difference, one that would impact the lives of the people with the least for the better. Which was bullshit. Utter bullshit. He was one of those with the least and his life continued to be hell. Nothing they had done had helped him keep a job. Nothing they had done helped him to keep up with his rent. Nothing they had done helped him with his life in any way, shape, or form. 

And yet there was Enjolras, standing at the head of their group describing how necessary this rally would be. How it was their chance, the people’s chance, to really make a positive change. The anger that had been following him all day, once pointed at himself, then his boss, was now pointed directly at Enjolras. 

“You’re a fool,” Grantaire called out from his place in the back, with Eponine on his right and Bossuet on his left. “This will never work. This is all pointless. We should be spending our time enjoying life instead of being the servants of Lord Enjolras and his whims and fancies.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened, he seemed surprised at the dissent, which just made Grantaire angrier. How dare he sit up there on his high horse, looking down on all the lowly people, without a care for how they really think and feel! 

When Enjolras responded it was with the anger that Grantaire had come to expect from him.

“You have no right to sit there and throw disparaging remarks at everything I have, everything we have worked for,” Enjolras sputtered, staring directly at Grantaire with hands clenched into fists. “You know nothing Grantaire, nothing save the bottom of your glass. You are a drunkard and nothing more. You bring nothing to this meeting, nothing to this cause, we’d be better off if you left and never returned.”

Ah, there it was. Words Grantaire had feared to hear, so blunt in their delivery and yet still able to cut deep. Grantaire didn’t look around to see how their friends were reacting, he only had eyes for Enjolras. Without breaking eye contact, Grantaire threw back the last of the wine that was left in his glass then slammed the glass on the table beside him. Standing he took long, thunderous strides till he was inches from Enjolras.

It was as if his body was separate from his mind. He had no recollection of willing his body to get this close to Enjolras, and now that he was here, he was uncertain what to do. Studying Enjolras’ face he expected to see anger, but was surprised to see something closer to anxiety, perhaps dread.

Good, Grantaire thought, maybe that would teach Enjolras to throw away words as if they meant nothing.

His voice was steady as he spat out angry words. “You think yourself above me. You think yourself a leader, a freedom fighter, a champion of the people? You are the one who knows nothing. You are naïve. You are pathetic and weak. You stand up here and wax poetic about how the people can change their lot in life. Meanwhile you accomplish nothing, you are nothing. Think on that before putting those around you down, you sad excuse of a man.”

With that Grantaire stormed out of the café. He heard Eponine and Bossuet fall in step behind him as he pushed his way out onto the sidewalk and stalked angrily in the direction of his flat.

Eponine and Bossuet both spoke harsh words directed toward Enjolras but Grantaire paid them no mind. His mind was reeling with what Enjolras had said. The anger was starting to fade out and in its place was simply exhaustion. This day had gone on too long, and he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he wanted to be.

Outside the steps to his flat he paused and turned back to his friends, both of whom were exuding righteous indignation on his behalf.

“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m good from here.”

“Are you sure man?” asked Bossuet, “We’re willing to stay with you as long as you need.”

“I think I’m actually just gonna turn in, this day has gone on long enough.”

Eponine stepped up and pulled him into a tight hug.

“He’s wrong you know. About everything. You are not nothing. You’re more brilliant than he could ever hope to be.”

“Thanks Ep,” Grantaire said, as he pulled away from her.

“And you better believe mister high and mighty is in for an ass kicking when I see him next.”

“He won’t know what hit ‘em,” Grantaire said as he walked up the steps to his flat.

“Damn right!” he heard as his key turned in his lock and he entered his flat.

Once inside his flat it was like all the energy in his body had drained all at once. He let his keys drop off to the side somewhere, not caring where they ended up. He stumbled over to his couch, managing to avoid the mess of clothes, papers, art supplies, and bottles that littered the floor. He fell, face first, onto the couch and stayed there contemplating the mess that was his life.

He must have dozed off at some point because suddenly Grantaire was startled awake by a knock on his door. For a moment he thought maybe he had dreamed it but then he heard another, distinct knock, coming from his front door. 

Pushing up off the couch with a groan, he maneuvered his way, unsuccessfully this time, through the clutter that was his flat, and after a third knock he finally reached the door. Pulling it open he was shocked to find Enjolras. Instantly he went from annoyed to angry, all the emotions from the day were just instantaneously renewed at the mere sight of the man in front of him.

There was something off about Enjolras, in the way he held himself maybe? Or was it his face? His eyes perhaps? Had they always seemed so, lost? No, he couldn’t let himself get distracted by Apollo incarnate. He was angry, not only that but he was justified in his anger.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire managed to grit out eventually.

Enjolras seemed to take in a deep breath before saying, “You’re right.”

Grantaire’s felt his eyes widen in shock. This is not what he had expected to come out of Enjolras’ mouth. In fact, it was the very last thing he thought he’d ever hear the man before him say.

“Come again?”

“I’m sorry for all I said. I was out of line and should never have taken my anger and anxiety out on you.” Enjolras had his hands clasped in front of him. His thumbs, alternating as they rubbed against the opposite palm. His voice was unsteady but he continued on as if he hadn’t noticed. 

“You’re right about everything. I have no right to be a part of l’ABC. I am the reason we are unable to accomplish to accomplish our goals. You’re friends have made it very clear they agree with you.” 

Words were coming at Grantaire too quickly for him to comprehend but what stood out to him the most was the fact that Enjolras’ voice had broken a little at the words ‘your friends’. What had happened to the man who was always sure of his words? Who was sure of his place? What was going on here?

“What are you talking about?” Grantaire asked, unable to think of anything else to say that would express his confusion. Anger had fallen to the wayside once again and in its place this time was confusion, pure and simple. “Look Enjolras I was drunk and spouting my usual nonsense you can’t…”

Enjolras interrupted him, “It wasn’t nonsense. Everyone agrees.” 

What the actual fuck had happened when he left the café? This was not the Enjolras he had left behind when he had stormed out.

“I’m stepping down from l’ABC. You will all be better off with a leader who considers their words. Who doesn’t let anger take over at the drop of a hat.”

What? How could Enjolras think that? They had fought before and every time they both just brushed it off and moved past it. That was their dynamic. They called each other out on their bullshit when no one else had the balls to do so. But this, this was wrong.

“You deserve to be surrounded by people who are supportive, not people who strike you down because they can’t keep their emotions in check. I know you don’t agree with my ideals, and I have no right to ask this of you, but please continue to help and support l’ABC in my absence. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness so I won’t ask for it. Goodbye Grantaire.” 

Grantaire stood there in stunned silence. Of all the things he had expected to be said upon seeing Enjolras at his door, this had never crossed his mind. He continued to stand there in confused silence as Enjolras turned and walked down the stairs.

Enjolras was out of sight when Grantaire realized he needed to move. Turning back into his flat he looked for his keys. They weren’t lying in the bowl next to the door like they usually were.

“Shit, shit, where did I put them?” Grantaire muttered as he patted down his pocked and scanned the hallway for where he could have possibly put his keys. Precious minutes passed while he searched till he eventually found them in a sneaker next to the front door.

He rushed out, closing his flat behind him, and made it to the sidewalk below. He scanned the street but Enjolras was long gone, and he had no clue where his flat was. Reaching into his pocket for his phone he realized he had left it in his flat.

“God-fucking-dammit!” He yelled, running back up to his flat and letting himself in. He quickly recovered his phone from the couch where it lay. Praying that one of les amis were still up he shot out a message to the group.

To Les Amis Group Chat

Anyone know where Enjolras’ flat is?

He waited anxiously but as the minutes passed he realized that either les amis were asleep or they were ignoring what they probably assumed to be a drunken cry for attention. He decided for a more direct approach.

To Enjolras  
Where are you?

Nothing…no response.

To Enjolras  
Are you okay?

God that was stupid, obviously he wasn’t. He wouldn’t have spouted all that nonsense if he had been in his right mind.

To Enjolras  
Can we talk about this?

The minutes turned into an hour and then two and Grantaire found himself slumped on his couch clutching his phone hoping it would light up with a message. It never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave this alone. The idea of this story was stuck in my head. And after receiving a couple lovely comments I knew I definitely had to continue this. There should be one more chapter at some point detailing a bit of comfort for Enjolras.
> 
> Comment if you like!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre just wants to enjoy his breakfast. Grantaire just wants to check on Enjolras. Enjolras just wants to stay in bed all day.

Combeferre was the earliest riser of all Les Amis. He was up and out of bed by 6 every morning. After a quick shower he was then able to take his time and enjoy a nice breakfast and just get his head on straight for the day ahead.

Sitting at his kitchen table, with a breakfast of fruit, homemade biscuits, and a lovely cup of coffee Combeferre finally looked at his phone to find he’d missed a message from Grantaire.

 

Les Amis Group Chat

Anyone know where Enjolras’ flat is?

 

Opening up a message between only him and Grantaire, Combeferre wrote back.

 

To Grantaire  
Why do you want to know where Enjolras’ flat is? He’s the one who needs to apologize to you.

 

Combeferre settled in to enjoy his breakfast and the morning paper, an actual newspaper because he was essentially an old man stuck in a millennials body, when his phone pinged. Grantaire, king of waking up at 1 in the afternoon, was up with the sun for some reason. This did not bode well.

 

From Grantaire  
Have you heard from Enjolras?

 

This was weird, even for Grantaire. Though he bounced back from his fights with Enjolras quicker than they always thought he would, he didn’t usually seek him out, especially not after such a major blow up as last night.

 

To Grantaire  
No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure he apologizes to you.

 

Incoming call from Grantaire.

 

“Grantaire? What’s going on with you? Are you alright? Do you need me to come over?” Combeferre asked, concerned about what must be going through Grantaire’s mind to have him up at 6 in the morning. 

“I need you to come get me and take me to Enjolras’ flat.”

“What? Grantaire, you’re not making any sense. I keep telling you, he’s the one who needs to talk to you. You did nothing wrong.”

Grantaire huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I think I did. I think we all did.”

“What are you talking about? He chose to cut you down when you were already in a bad place. I repeat, you did nothing wrong.”

“He already apologized to me. Last night he stopped over and the things he said, you would’ve thought he was me after a few drinks. I don’t think he’s in a good headspace right now. So, will you stop being stubborn for one minute and just take me to see him.”

To say Combeferre was stunned by this outburst would be an understatement. He started to rack his brain, trying to think if anything had seemed off about Enjolras yesterday but he had just seemed to be his usual self. Regardless it really didn’t matter what he thought at the moment, Grantaire was convinced something was wrong and it’d probably be best for someone to be there to act as a buffer between the two pigheaded men. 

“Fine, I’ll come pick you up. Can I at least finish my breakfast first?” Combeferre asked, eyeing his cooling cup of coffee longingly.

The silence on the other end of the line was enough of an answer. With a huff Combeferre replied, “I’ll be there in ten.”

****************

Enjolras hadn’t managed to sleep more than a couple hours during the night. Every time he managed to fall asleep he was jolted back awake, the sounds of angry and hateful words being thrown at him still ringing in his ears.

Though light was now pouring through his bedroom window he remained in bed, under a pile of heavy blankets that were usually enough to comfort him when he was struggling to move past the words and anxieties of the previous day. 

How had it all come to this? That question was pointless, it just served to restart the cycle of him reviewing every single thing he had done wrong the previous day. Every gesture, every look, every word that he had done wrong. He had ruined everything. Not just with Grantaire, but with Les Amis, with his cause. The cause. He couldn’t even call it his anymore. He wasn’t fit to lead, that much was clear. Maybe one day they would be willing to let him back in, to help out in a lesser capacity. But he’d have to watch his tongue, there probably wouldn’t be any more chances for him. 

The knock on his door was surprising for a few reasons. One, it was barely 7:30 in the morning. Two, he had pretty much alienated everyone he knew. Three, there were exactly zero reasons for anyone to come and visit him. 

When the knock sounded again, louder than before, Enjolras knew he had to get up and answer it. At the very least to save his neighbors from being woken up earlier than necessary. He didn’t want to alienate his neighbors as well. 

Looking down in disgust he noted that he was still in yesterday’s jeans and button down shirt. Too late to change now. Someone knocked on his door a third time.

He opened the door slowly, hoping he could send whoever it was who had mistaken his door for someone else’s on their way as soon as possible. Instead he was met with the sight of an irritated Combeferre and an anxious Grantaire. He wanted to shut the door right in their faces, he even started to close the door again, but Grantaire pushed his way into the flat before he could so much as twitch a finger. Combeferre followed and closed the door behind him. 

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked as soon as everyone was inside the flat surprising Enjolras once again. He was about to respond when he glanced over at Combeferre who was rolling his eyes. Whatever Enjolras had been planning to say flew right out his head so instead he just simply nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor instead. 

Unknown to Enjolras, Grantaire had noticed the way he had closed off upon seeing Combeferre. Grantaire grabbed his arm and pulled them deeper into the flat till they had somehow found themselves seated on his couch with Combeferre hovering awkwardly in front of them.

“You can’t quit l’ABC,” Grantaire said, trying to catch Enjolras’ eyes but failing.

Combeferre started from where he had been looking over the random documentary DVDs Enjolras had by his TV.

“What? You’re quitting l’ABC? What about our rally this weekend? Why are you doing that? It can’t be because of the fight you and Grantaire had, is it? Just be a big boy and apologize to Grantaire and then we can put it behind us,” Combeferre said.

“I’m not quitting because of the fight,” Enjolras said softly, trying to gather his thoughts so that he wouldn’t throw away words once again in a way that destroyed everything beyond all repair.

“And you shouldn’t. It was partly my fault too. If anyone should quit it should be me,” Grantaire said.

“No one should quit!” Combeferre said. “How did this turn from Enjolras being an absolute dick to Grantaire on the day he was fired for absolutely no reason, to everyone deciding they needed to leave the cause?”

“You were fired?” Enjolras gasped while at the same moment Grantaire asked “for no reason?”

“Wait,” Grantaire said, pushing a hand through dark curls, “You didn’t know I was fired yesterday? Didn’t Eponine send out a mass text to everyone explaining the situation?”

“I didn’t get any texts from Eponine yesterday,” Enjolras said, feeling confused and awful at the same time. No wonder everyone was pissed at him. He had kicked Grantaire when he was already down. Who could stand by and watch that happen without blowing up the way Les Amis had. 

Combeferre had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through his texts. 

“Oh,” he said after a moment, “she left you out of the text.”

“What did she say in her message?” Grantaire asked.

“Just that you had been fired by your boss for one small mistake. That he didn’t even give you a second chance or anything, just fired you right there on the spot for no reason.”

“Oh Grantaire that’s awful. I’m so sorry. I had no idea, if I had known…” but Enjolras couldn’t finish that sentence because, honestly, even if he had known he probably would have still said the things he said. With his lack of control he probably would’ve said even worse things, throwing the firing in his face if he’d known.

“No, God, stop it Enjolras you have nothing to be sorry for. You,” he said pointing toward Enjolras, “had no idea. You just responded to my ribbing you the way you always do. And you,” he said pointing toward Combeferre, “have got it all wrong. I wasn’t fired for no reason, or some small mistake like Eponine said. I was swiping alcohol. Stealing it and pouring it into my flask. They had every right to fire me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you just tell us right away what had happened?” Combeferre said now thoroughly confused by everything that was going on around him.

“You all treat me with kid gloves all the time. You all dance around me and my feelings trying to make sure that I’m okay. You all think I’m this fragile thing, that the slightest breeze will break me. Well I’m not. I didn’t tell you because some small part of me wanted you to continue to pamper me, to continue to think the best of me despite all my many, many flaws. While we were all concerned with making sure I didn’t break someone else ended up broken.”

Enjolras sucked in a breath and didn’t let it go again. What was Grantaire doing? What was he implying? It was like he had seen right through his mask, something no one else had managed to do yet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Grantaire, I’m perfectly fine,” Enjolras managed to squeak out.

Enjolras couldn’t miss the look of exasperation from Grantaire and concern from Combeferre.

“Enjolras, I’m sorry if we, if I, was harsh with you last night. I guess I hadn’t realized how much we had worked to protect Grantaire’s feelings, even at the cost of your own,” Combeferre reached forward to grasp Enjolras on the shoulder but Enjolras shied away. Combeferre’s words were nice, but his words, his threat from the night before were still ringing in his ears.

“Combeferre, could you let us talk on our own for a minute?” Grantaire asked.

Combeferre, after having some sort of mental conversation with Grantaire, nodded his head and went into the kitchen.

“I know where my head was at yesterday but I can’t quite figure out where yours was.” Grantaire said, “Whatever’s happening in that beautiful brain of yours has been building for a while now, hasn’t it?”

Enjolras was startled by Grantaire’s perception. How could this man he’d only very managed to insult, read him so clearly, when all others around him couldn’t. Should he go ahead and tell Grantaire everything? Everyone already thought the worst of him, he’d already quit the cause he’d devoted his life to, what was the worst that could happen?

“I have anxiety,” he stated, pausing to see if Grantaire would laugh at him, instead Grantaire was giving him a reassuring look so he continued on. “Social anxiety to be exact.” He could practically see the wheels turning in Grantaire’s head, how could someone who was fine speaking in front of a crowd, have social anxiety. He’d asked himself that same question many times and was still struggling to find an answer.

Grantaire continued to be quiet, waiting, Enjolras realized, for him to continue.

“I kind of do this thing, at the end of each day, where I review every conversation I had. I think about all the things that came out wrong. The things that pissed people off, annoyed people, hurt people. I think about all the things I could have said instead. I think about how the people I had been talking to must think I’m an idiot, or a terrible person, and how they would rather not talk to me at all if that was the best I could do.”

Enjolras’ thumbs were rubbing into the opposite palms once again, a nervous habit he’d picked up somewhere along the way.

“I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned your anxiety to anyone else, none of Les Amis?” Grantaire asked, though the way he phrased it made it sound like he already knew the answer. Enjolras nodded his head.

Suddenly, Grantaire’s hands gripped his own, stopping the anxious glide of thumb over palm.

“It seems to me that you’re very aware of your anxiety, that on some level you understand it’s your anxiety making you think those terrible thoughts about yourself. But you’re having trouble remembering that fact.”

Enjolras nodded his head again, continuing to stare at where Grantaire was gently holding his hands, hardly noticing the tears that were beginning to slip down his own cheeks.

“Let us help you remember that your anxiety is being a dumbass and that you can’t believe the bad things your head is telling you. If everyone can make time to do it for my sad ass then we sure as hell can make time for you.” 

“He’s right you know,” Combeferre called out from behind him, causing Enjolras to startle and attempt to pull his hands back from Grantaire. Grantaire wouldn’t let him.

“We’re your friends. If you had let us in we would’ve helped.” Combeferre sat down on the other side of Enjolras.

“Which are some nice words but he shouldn’t have to spell out his anxiety for all of us to be more careful with our words around him,” Grantaire grit out, angry for some reason unknown to Enjolras.

“You’re right. Let me be the first to apologize to you Enjolras. Whether we knew or not we should have been more considerate of how you would take our words. I hope you will be able to forgive me.”

This was too much for Enjolras to take. He was trying to stop the tears from flowing and yet they just seemed to increase tenfold. He wasn’t sure how to feel, how to act, what to believe and what not to. All he knew was that right now he was sandwiched by two beautiful souls who were trying to lend him a hand. He had a choice to either take their help or continue to go at it alone. But look where going it alone had gotten him.

Pulling one hand back from Grantaire’s grasp, Enjolras reached over and intertwined his fingers with Combeferre. He didn’t let go of either Combeferre or Grantaire’s hands for a long, long time. Not until many more tears had been shed, apologies had been given, and awkward (in his mind) hugs had been shared.

Things weren’t immediately fixed, Enjolras hadn’t expected that, but with people now by his side, he felt like he just might be able to move on toward better, and brighter, things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully that was okay and not too abrupt of an ending...I always feel that endings are my weak points. Glad to add some comfort to this post!
> 
> Sorry if Enjolras was super super OOC throughout this whole thing. I was basing his anxieties on my own.
> 
> Comment if you like, they really do always make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> Eeek, so this is my first fic in this fandom. So of course I went with a standard argument fic. For now this fic is done but I am considering continuing it, but from Grantaire's point of view. We shall see.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! (I mean, if you'd like, no worries....is it clear I'm a little anxious) I'm so sorry if I completely butchered everyone!


End file.
